


Always the Bridesmaid

by elephantfootprints



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Moving On, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, getting over someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a long time Molly was the only one Sherlock let see his little moments of genuine emotion. She thinks it means something, believes he might care for her. But then Doctor John Watson comes into their lives and it becomes obvious she never really had a chance. </p>
<p>A response to the prompt <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=131858297#t131858297">Molly asks Sherlock "Why John and not me?"</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always the Bridesmaid

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks my delightful and delectable betas, [Holesinthesky](http://theresholesinthesky.tumblr.com) and [LadyPrydian](http://ladyprydian.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Originally posted [here.](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=133102201#t133102201)

"Molly, I need your freshest corpse," Sherlock says, sweeping into Molly's lab late one evening. Molly scrambles up, mentally going through the cadavers donated for the med students, trying to weigh up the odds that Sherlock genuinely needs this to solve a case, against the roster for classes. This is not an uncommon decision she has to make, but she gets a bit too wrapped up in trying to determine how serious Sherlock's needs are and so it takes a few moments for her to notice the bloke who has followed in after Sherlock, the doctor fellow he seems to have picked up.

"Oh, um, right," Molly says, leading them into the morgue and pulling out the late Mrs Richmond. "Valerie Richmond, 79, heart failure, natural causes."

Molly hands Sherlock the clipboard with all of her information, and he glances at it briefly before handing it to Doctor Watson. John, Molly thinks. They've met a few times before, but Sherlock is never one for introductions so she can't quite be sure. It's too late to ask now, Molly suspects, but John sounds about right, and anyway she can just avoid using his name until someone confirms it for her.

John reads the chart and looks up at Sherlock, saying in a very serious tone, "It is my professional opinion that this woman is dead."

Sherlock looks up and flashes John a brief smile, small but genuine, before turning back to the cadaver. A surge of jealousy, rises in Molly, irrational she knows, but there's nothing she can do about that. It's just that for so long now Molly had been the only one to see Sherlock's real expressions. Little grins of joy when something went right, frowns of disappointment when they did not. Sometimes she even catches him in little moments where Sherlock would simply stare into the distance, eyes soft with longing. He's lonely, Molly knows in those fleeting seconds before Sherlock returns to his task, possibly not even aware of it. It's hard to know if Molly's company, bright offers of coffee, hints for a shared dinner, help at all. But it means something, that Sherlock lets his defences down enough around her to let her catch him in these sombre moods. Sherlock's very careful about how he lets the world see him, for all he claims not to care.

The big dramatic expressions Sherlock will give out to all and sundry. To those he needs something from, whether for a case or because despite himself he has allowed them to matter, there are his faked looks. Carefully crafted emotions designed to manipulate, charm or appease. The general public he keeps away through a combination of hostility, disdain and indifference, enough so people will neither bother him nor take much notice of him. The most honest interactions Sherlock usually has is with those who can serve him, his networks of helpers. It's never anything deeply personal, he's simply upfront about what he needs and what he will give in return.

No, the truly intimate moments were, Molly had thought, for her and her alone. Gifted to her, whether consciously or not, in response to her patience, earnest offers of friendship, and her refusal to judge Sherlock based on the way the rest of the world saw him. Perhaps it is irrational to be possessive of Sherlock's genuine expressions, but they were hard earned. Molly cannot fathom how it was that John has so quickly and so easily managed to outdo her in connecting with Sherlock.

John is a strange addition to Sherlock's life, turning up out of the blue less than a week after Sherlock had complained of needing to find a new flat. On the surface, his presence makes sense. John appears to be a good doctor and he was a soldier, so he must be a valuable asset in Sherlock's work. Only, as far as Molly has been able to tell, his chief purpose is to sort of follow Sherlock around, occasionally stroking his ego or handing him objects. 

It's not that Molly begrudges Sherlock that, genius needs an audience, she knows this. And sometimes when you're trying to get lab results fast you never seem to have enough hands. But, well, that's sort of been Molly's job and now she's standing in a morgue, her morgue, feeling superfluous and a little hurt that Sherlock has never smiled at her, not like that.

"Well, I guess I'll just leave you to it," Molly says, falsely bright.

"One moment," Sherlock says, looking away from Mrs Richmond. 

"Yes?" Molly asks, heart rising. She's never far away when Sherlock is in the building, never leaves without letting him know where she is. The both know it stopped being simply her following protocol a long time ago, when she arranged for Sherlock to have access to the lab officially, so he wouldn't find himself locked in by the janitor or unable to retrieve vital evidence at a crucial moment. No, she stays because he always gives the impression he likes knowing she's around.

"We might be here late," Sherlock says. "Show John where the coffee maker is and tell Mrs Richmond's doctor she was allergic to cats, not dogs as the chart would have you believe."

Molly rolls her eyes. She’s surprised when she catches John doing the same, but finds herself sharing a brief knowing smile. It’s nice.

"Okay," Molly says indulgently, "I'll make a note it."

"I can do it," John says, pulling out a pen. Molly sighs.

"I really shouldn't be letting you just mess with the chart," Molly says. John shrugs and hands the clipboard over. Molly resolutely does not wish John would so easily relinquish his new role in Sherlock's life because John has been unfailingly polite to Molly, going so far as to apologise for Sherlock's rudeness at times. Whatever strange feelings his relationship with Sherlock has been stirring up in Molly, there is no reason to take it out on John. He's nice and friendly, and Molly should not be pushing people like that out of her life. Especially not for and undefined and unacknowledged rapport she sometimes wonders if she has imagined. 

 

For the amount of time John and Molly seem to end up spending together, they rarely talk. Sherlock is their connection, and they are only around each other in his presence, or at his behest. When he is in the room, it's easy to lose themselves in watching him, or hasten to complete whatever tasks he has assigned them. When Sherlock has sent them on errands, their interactions are brief, to the point. Never spending time in idle conversation or anything more serious than a shared expression of fond exasperation for their common link. So it startles Molly when, two hours into a Sherlock watching vigil, John says,

"Can I ask something a bit weird?"

Molly pauses, glances down at her paperwork and fills in a few more sections, trying to steel herself, before setting the work aside.

"I work in a morgue with Sherlock," Molly says with a smile, hiding her nervousness. "I'm not sure there's much left you can ask that I would consider 'weird'."

John grins, allowing Molly's point. "It's to do with Sherlock," he says. He takes a breath and Molly curls her hands, growing concerned.

"It's not... Is there something wrong?" Molly asks, a dozen possibilities flashing through her mind.

"No, no," John says quickly. "I just... I could use an outside opinion on something. From someone who's... well, who's met Sherlock but also doesn't want to punch him."

"I can see why you're asking me," Molly says, grinning slyly for a moment, before flushing with guilt. "Not that he's... I mean, Sherlock's just..."

"I have met him," John says, smiling encouragingly at her. And he seems amused, but not in a mean way. More fond, which settles Molly's guilt as much as it twists that little bit of heartache she allows herself to have over Sherlock. "No, it's just... has he ever told you he's married to his work?"

The question throws Molly, wholly unexpected. It's hard to imagine Sherlock saying the words, even though there is a definite ring of truth to them. Knowing Sherlock, no one would ever think to refute the suggestion that Sherlock's work is the most important thing in his life, but there's really only one circumstance in which it would come up.

"Did you come onto Sherlock?" Molly asks, incredulous. It's not that she hasn't noticed the value Sherlock places in John's presence, the appreciation and hints of a deeper fondness for him. Nor could Molly help but wonder at the glances John gives Sherlock, attentive, affection looks that linger too long. But it's hard to imagine a situation in which John, adamantly straight and clearly scared of losing Sherlock, would risk everything by making a move on Sherlock. And when Molly thinks of all the times Sherlock has ignored, brushed aside or twisted all of Molly's attempts to catch his attention, it hurts to think that he would be so straightforward, honest and compassionate in letting John down.

"What? No!" John says. He glances over at Sherlock, who is still staring at the first victim, deep in thought. John lowers his voice nonetheless. "It was when we first met, I just asked if he was single and said that I was single and he told me he was married to his work."

It's difficult for Molly to know what to feel about. She isn't sure if it would be rude to tell John you don't have to be a genius to deduce that when someone who is clearly attracted to you asks if you are single and then tells you they are single it is definitely making a pass. There's no way she wants to open up a discussion about the strange pull Sherlock has over John, so she swallows the thought and considers the scenario John described. For anyone but Sherlock, Molly would simply say that John was being let down and it was up to him to accept it and move on. But this is Sherlock they are dealing with and it would be a grievous error to try and apply normal rules to Sherlock's actions.

From their first interaction, Molly will admit to being attracted to Sherlock. Not simply because he was a good looking person, but because he was fascinating and different. And, she acknowledges, he flirted with her to convince her to let him see a dead body. Despite this, Molly wonders if Sherlock is actually unaware of her feelings. For all the Sherlock can be impossibly observant, he does have a tendency to rapidly dismiss the findings that are not useful to him. It seems entirely likely that he came into the morgue, subconsciously picked up her attraction to him and allowed this to influence his manipulation of her, and then forgot about it completely. This presumption is one Molly has clung to throughout their interactions, reminding herself of it when Sherlock seemed particularly obtuse. If what John is saying is true, though, it sours Sherlock's interactions with her.

"He's never said that to me," Molly says with a shrug, keeping her voice even.

John nods, once, his brows furrowing in confusion. He hesitates for a moment, before asking, "What do you think it means?"

Molly presses her lips together, a poor attempt at smothering a laugh. Despite what the conversation means to her personally, it's bizarre enough to be amusing. John frowns at her response and she straightens her face.

"You guys were about to become flatmates, he was probably just setting some boundaries," Molly says. It's reasonable and certainly explains Sherlock's response, but it doesn't quite ring true for Molly. She could much more easily see Sherlock either deciding not to live with John because he feared it would be too much work for him, or much more likely Sherlock would simply ignore John's attraction and pretend it didn't exist.

"Right," John says, and Molly isn't quite sure what John thinks about her explanation.

"This happened ages ago," Molly points out. "The much more important question is why you are bringing it up now."

John shifts uncomfortably and doesn't meet her eye when he says, "Sherlock's hard to figure out."

Molly hums thoughtfully. Sherlock is hard to work out, that's true enough, but Molly isn't quite sure how to respond. She has a sinking feeling that Sherlock's attachment to John, and John's fascination with Sherlock was about to develop into something else, something she can't imagine as anything but quite serious. 

"I'm guessing you haven't tried talking to him," Molly teases. That's all she can really do. There's certainly no advice she can give to John, and she's not ready to hear John reveal anything to confirm her suspicions.

"You think there's something to talk about?" John asks carefully. Something clenches painfully in Molly, but she just gives John's arm a friendly shove and smiles at him.

"Yes," Molly says and she's relieved when they lapse back into silence after that.

 

There are no cases that leave openings for John and Molly to talk again in the next few weeks, but John catches Molly as he's rushing off to follow a lead one afternoon.

"Hey," John says quietly, touching Molly's elbow gently. "I just wanted to let you know we talked."

"Oh," Molly says. John flashes a smile at her, sweet and soft and Molly forces herself to grin back at him. "It went well, I take it?"

"Yeah," John says, glancing down and flushing slightly. He's happy, undeniably and so sincerely that Molly can't begrudge him it. 

"I'm glad," Molly says. John looks back up and his expression slides into one of sympathy and pity. It's too much for Molly, so she rolls her eyes and adds, "I'm fine, he's your problem now."

John hesitates for a moment, uncertain, but he must understand Molly doesn't want to talk about it so he nods, turning to find Sherlock before squeezing Molly's arm and leaving. For a moment, Molly considers hiding in her office with a hot chocolate and having a bit of a cry, but when she catches Sherlock trying to covertly look at her, the frustration and jealousy she had forced down for John rises up again. Once she is certain John is out of earshot, Molly asks,

"Why him?" When Sherlock does not immediately reply, Molly feels a flush of humiliation rush through her. "Not that he's not nice or anything, and he's definitely fit. I just... why him and not me?" 

Silence falls between them again, and it makes it harder for Molly to hold onto her feelings of hurt and indignation. She feels foolish and overlooked.

"Is it because he's a bloke?" Molly asks. "Do you just not fancy women? Or... or do you just not fancy me?" She shakes her head. "Not that it matters, I don't mind if you're gay or if it's me, I just don't know why you couldn't have told me. You let me believe-" Molly cuts herself off roughly and turns away. She can feel her throat close over, hot tears welling in her eyes. She isn't going to cry in front of Sherlock.

"I have never found the idea of a romantic relationship very appealing before John," Sherlock says at last. "If someone found me attractive it was either inconvenient or useful."

"And I was useful," Molly says thickly, letting herself grow angry enough to stop any chance of crying.

"At times," Sherlock says. He stands and walks over to Molly, hesitantly grasping her wrist. It's not a calculated gesture, Sherlock's too awkward for that, so Molly lets him take it. "You were always an anomaly, though."

Molly frowns, unsure how insulted by this remark she should be. "An anomaly? Just what every girl wants to hear."

Sherlock shakes his head. "You remained attracted to me long after I revealed my abrasive personality. Ordinarily, people are attracted to me for my looks and if I need to use them, I pretend to be charming and... nice." Sherlock grimaces briefly before looking at Molly curiously. "I came in week after week demanding bodies to experiment on, and was endlessly rude to you, and yet your attraction persisted. I didn't know what to do with someone like you."

"You knew what to do with John," Molly says. Sherlock frowns, confused. "He told me you gave him the brush off the first night you met. Told him you were married to your work."

"Ah," Sherlock says.

"You never turned me down, not directly. If it had been anyone else, I would have just taken the hint and moved on. But you're so different from everyone else..." Molly trails off, leaving Sherlock to fill in the rest. It's too humiliating to try and explain her thought pattern. She swallows hard, pushing her anger and hurt to the forefront so she doesn't feel quite so pathetic. "But you knew straight away with John and you saved him the embarrassment of pining over someone not interested in you. Why couldn't you do the same for me?"

Sherlock releases her hand, bringing his own up in front of his mouth, pressing his fingers together thoughtfully. "Though it could be useful at times, I didn't want you to be attracted to me. I find you to be useful to my work and not unpleasant company, so I preferred to remain on good terms with you. I could claim I feared it would affect our current relationship to turn you down, but that would be grossly inaccurate. I didn't want you to be attracted to me , so I ignored it."

"Oh," Molly says. She recognises the deeper compliment beneath Sherlock's comment about her being useful and not unpleasant company, his way of letting her know he sees her as a friend, not just a tool. It’s lovely to hear, but the flattered feeling dissolves beneath a new feeling of disappointment in Sherlock. The idea that Sherlock might simply be a bit cowardly had not crossed her mind when she analysed his actions. "So with John?"

Sherlock turns away from her and his voice becomes slightly cooler, more detached. "I was gratified with John's attraction to me. Not because it was convenient or useful; I simply found it pleasing. I wanted him to be attracted to me, I... desired it, yet it seemed impossible to act upon. I suppose I feared it would not last or that I would disappoint him." Sherlock glances back at Molly. "So I acknowledged it and let John know it was agreeable to me."

"At least you took the coward's way out with both of us," Molly says softly, unable to find enough rancour to try and seriously hurt Sherlock.

"Yes, I suppose I did," Sherlock says. He gives her a serious look. "Yet you did not, Molly Hooper, and for that I am grateful."

Molly gives a watery laugh. "Yes, I suppose you should be,” she says. “Perhaps this means you might stop leaving body parts in beakers for me to deal with."

Sherlock makes a displeased noise, but says, "If I must. And there's no murders to solve. And John can't be convinced to do it for me."

"How magnanimous of you, Sherlock," Molly says, rolling her eyes before excusing herself and heading into her office. It's a relief to have an answer from Sherlock at last. It feels like maybe now she can finally move on, settle into a comfortable friendship with both of them. The memory of John’s pleased little smile is enough that Molly honestly hopes they will work out. But she's not ready to be happy for Sherlock just yet and for now all she wants to do is feel a bit cross with Sherlock, a bit sorry for herself and have some ice-cream and a bit of a cry. She's earned it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://likeanelephantfootprint.tumblr.com)!


End file.
